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XXIII
FRITHIOF AT SEA
Now, King Helge stood
In fury on the strand,
And in embittered mood
Adjured the Storm-fiend’s band.
Gloomy is the heaven growing,
Through desert skies the thunders roar,
In the deep the billows brewing
Cream with foam the surface o’er.
Lightnings cleave the storm-cloud, seeming
Blood-red gashes in its side;
And all the sea-birds, wildly screaming,
Fly the terrors of the tide.
"Storm is coming, comrades,
Its angry wings I hear
Flapping in the distance,
But fearless we may be.
Sit tranquil in the grove,
And fondly think on me,
Lovely in thy sorrow,
Beauteous Ingeborg."
Now two storm-fiends came
Against Ellida’s side;
One was wind-cold Ham,
One was snowy Heyd.
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